


Hush-a-Bye

by ZafiraMente



Series: Exposition [2]
Category: Newsflesh Trilogy - Mira Grant
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 01:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20845346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZafiraMente/pseuds/ZafiraMente
Summary: Extra peek into the minds of the Masons





	Hush-a-Bye

**Author's Note:**

> I like psychology and have given likely way too much thought into the Masons. I read “All the Pretty Little Horses”, and it was good for some aspects, but I wanted to bring more into it. 
> 
> I started thinking about child development, and how Georgia and Shaun weren’t sociopaths or anything, so they had to have had some affection and care in their early childhood. So I thought I’d write something about how the Mason’s struggled, and give them a little humanity. They’re never going to be good parents, but maybe there’s some sympathy to be had for them too.  
Shaun’s origins are a little confusing as well. The timing of blog posts listed in “All the Pretty Horses” make it unclear about whether Collier was objecting to their going along with the mission to the orphanages, or to the adoption finalization. Same with the comments from the orphanage administrators – the timing is weird and Sacramento is definitely not SoCal seeing as it is north of the Bay Area. So, I’m trying to connect the dots a little better. Timeline is just after All the Pretty Little Horses.

The Masons had a trip to San Diego planned immediately after their visits to the orphanages. Stacy wanted to do an in-depth look at the carnage that had been the 2014 San Diego Comic Con. It was now over three years since the rising, and the convention center still wasn’t considered clean or safe. The initial bomb and subsequent fire had killed most of the zombies, but there was always the risk of something still trapped and able to infect, not to mention the structure itself was crumbling and dangerous. The last hours of the convention hall had been broadcast by a group from inside, and she retraced their steps, narrating in a hushed voice of the death of thousands of people. 

Michael wanted to cover another orphanage that specialized in babies whose families had been killed during delivery. The Little Losts, the subgeneration of newborns that found themselves born into a horror story. They were oddly less likely to be adopted than toddlers, turning pre-Rising adoption statistics on their head. The superstitions about them was ridiculous in his mind, and he thought he could do some good by showing that the Little Losts were not evil or bad luck or anything else besides little humans that needed homes.

As soon as they set foot in the facility holding the infants, Michael knew the children they would adopt would be Little Losts. These were babies desperately in need of a mother, and he had a wife that was desperately in need of a child. It wouldn’t be a hard sell for Stacy, once she saw them.

Stacy agreed, if only to show these children were safe to adopt. She didn’t know what the future would hold, but she didn’t believe in superstitions. It was also easier for her emotionally; she wouldn’t have to compete with the memory of a mother that she would never be able to live up to. And even with the legislation to ease adoptions coming down the pike, it was almost guaranteed that the Little Losts would never have someone come forward to claim them, as opposed to older children.

It was a clean slate, the exact thing they needed. Plus, a cynical part of her thought: ‘_Just think of the ratings.’_ The intention had been to adopt their new “twins” from one of the local orphanages, but then she saw a little blonde baby boy, just like her Philip before he died.

_“Then he was a redhead, wasn’t he, Stacy? Red with blood when his brains exited his head, thanks to his own mother’s bullet.” _Being forced to shoot her child had broken something in her mind and she could hear the voice of her own mother berating her for her failures, her failure with Philip being the largest of them all. She gripped the bundle in her arms tightly, so tightly that a pained wail suddenly arose from the child. She loosened her grip and looked around quickly to make sure no one else had seen.

She didn’t love him yet, of course not. That was normal. It took her six years to have so much love for Philip, surely it would come with time with this new child, at least that’s what she told herself. But this was the first step.

They named him Shaun Philip Mason. A name he could never live up to.

* * *

Immediately after returning to Berkeley, they went to their local Oakland orphanage. It never even occurred to them that there might not be a child that fit the specifications they were looking for: a little girl, as close as possible to their other infant’s age. They needed the children to match, to complete the “twin” illusion, to make the perfect story, the perfect family.

The Oakland facility administrator they spoke with found their request a little odd – most people came in wanting to find a child they connected with, not one that fit a birthdate and gender. But who was she to judge? They were still going to give the baby a home and it was better than growing up in an institution she figured. Michael and Stacy Mason were legends!

It turned out there was only one little girl who was about the same age as Shaun. Less than a month older, they thought. She was dark haired and a little smaller than he was, despite her age. It was close enough for the Masons. Stacy didn’t want to keep looking, and it was good for the community for them to adopt locally, so they took the little girl home with them and she would become Georgia Carolyn Mason. 

“How does it feel to be a new mother again?” A member of the media asked her as she stepped out of the Oakland facility, Georgia in her arms, Shaun in Michael’s.

‘_You’re not a_ new _mother, you’re a _failed _mother.’_ Her mind helpfully corrected the reporter internally.

She plastered on a smile and lied, following the time-honored tradition to ‘fake it ‘til you make it’. “Words can’t express how we feel to have been given the opportunity to share our home with two of the Little Losts. Hopefully this will encourage others to take in any of the Lost Generation, and join with us to make sure that these children who have been through so much already have a brighter tomorrow.” She had written the words herself on the way up, practicing it with Michael, wanting to make sure she projected the correct motherly image. 

* * *

The beginning years weren’t so bad, really. It was almost as if they had a nanny, with students and interns rotating through the house constantly. Better parents might have been concerned that these vulnerable infants had no stability in routine or caregivers even, but the Masons didn’t even think about what effect it would have on the children.

Stacy really only had to care for them unassisted under limited circumstances: at night when Michael was away or when she took them out on field trips. The former was a great source of stress for her, and she started hiring a sitter to help if Michael needed to be gone for more than a couple days. Being alone in the house with the two children made her intrusive thoughts get louder and more venomous. 

It also spurred their move to a new home. They had initially brought the children to the home where Philip lived, but it wasn’t bearable. Stacy wanted to scream every moment she saw them in places she had been with Philip, so they moved back to the Claremont and looked for somewhere new – the final piece in their fresh slate. By the time the adoptions were finalized, the twins were eighteen months old, the new house was ready to move into, upgraded with the newest technology they could afford.

As the years went by and their twins-not-twins continued to grow, they felt something for them, not entirely unlike love. It was nowhere near what it should have been, but they thought it was enough. They didn’t want for things. They had adults to attend to their needs and give them affection, if not love. And some days, it came close to love even.

Every day though, no matter who was taking care of them or what was happening, Shaun and Georgia were there for each other. They shared a crib until they moved into the new house, where they were moved to two toddler beds, on opposite sides of the room. By that point though, they were used to sleeping next to each other and would migrate to one bed or the other before the night was through. Some kids had stuffed animals or blankies as their security object, but they had their sibling instead.

**Author's Note:**

> The other thing I've considered, is that we are clear that the narrators are unreliable in the stories, and of course their children are going to see them in the worst light possible, but it's possible that maybe the Mason's tried a lot harder than the kids could recognize.


End file.
